


Sacrifice

by peppermint_latte



Series: The Multiple Inquisitor AU [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ancient Elves (Dragon Age), Child Solas, Elvhenan, Mages (Dragon Age), Multi, Multiple Inquisitors, Original Character(s), Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Time Loop, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 20:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18901867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermint_latte/pseuds/peppermint_latte
Summary: What is it to believe in someone? How much can you take before you stop believing they can be saved?





	1. At Trespasser’s End

**Author's Note:**

> This AU was started by me and a group of friends, the original characters featured belong to each of us. (And the rest of belong to BioWare, as does the world.)  
> Conkus (Dalish Elf), Vara (Dalish Elf), Elena (Human Mage) and Telsi (Dwarf Rogue) are mine.  
> Olivia (City Elf) belongs to omi-writing on ao3.  
> Deimos (Human Rogue) belongs to deimido on tumblr.

Pain. That’s all he can feel. All consuming, burning pain. He can’t see anything, only darkness. There are fragments of awareness floating around him. He grasps at them, trying to remember where he is, who he is.

His hand brushes the edge of a fragment and it shatters into light. Blinding in it’s intensity, it consumes him.

He sees them. The six of them. They are arguing. They’re in a dark corridor. He hears a familiar voice he cannot place shout for help, they all turn and run to the door at the end of the hall. They burst through it into a large room. A woman is suspended in the centre of the room, everyone turns to stare at them. In that moment, the woman throws the orb from the darkspawn’s hand and it sails through the air, falling. It’s going to smash against the stone. All of them reach out to catch it, arms outstretched.

The fragment is gone as suddenly as it came and with it, the pain returns. Before he can readjust he is thrown into another memory.

A celebration is happening, the hole in the world is gone and they celebrate. An army marches to their doors. He fights with everything he has. He saves those he can. The people flee, he remains with three of the others to stop Corypheus. He remembers running with the five, and falling, and more pain. Then darkness. He remembers them carrying each other through the snow as the storm batters at their sides. They collapse as they reached camp, safe.

Another memory pulls him in. Banking the blinding pain he feels begin to return.

Pride. Pride became sick. Blood poisoned. An incurable illness eating at him. Blighted. He remembers sleepless nights searching through book after book for an answer. Determination. Save him, save him. Repeating in his mind over and over. Hopelessness. And then, relief. Pride survives. Impossibly, his friend lives. Solas lives.

Solas.

He remembers Solas staring down at them all as they lay on their knees, marks burning through their bodies, killing them. His eyes are distant and hard. Solas, who had been his friend once. Who had been an advisor, a confidant, even a lover to one. Their friend. Solas, who was the enemy. Who had betrayed them. Disappeared. He had lied, all that time.

He remembers asking, dread coursing through him. Somehow already knowing the answer, but still hoping.

“Do you need them all?” It would kill them, surely, if he took their marks.

Solas said nothing, but his eyes held regret in their depth. He would kill them all, for the marks.

“No.” He refused. He would save his friends, he had too.

Conkus remembers feeling the mark in his hand, the power that was snaking its way through him, killing him, little by little. Feeling the power that connected him to the others, to his friends. The people who’d stood together through everything, who’d fought together and had fought each other. Who’d found common ground, even when it seemed impossible. The people he would die for. Their marks connecting them. A connection he had always felt, even before they had come to be his friends, his clan.

And he remembers pulling.

He pulls at the power connecting them as he never had. Pulling it away from them, out of them. He hears them cry out, and almost falters, but the look in Solas’s eyes keeps him steady. He cannot fail.

He pulls harder. Their screams turn agonising and he cringes away from the sound, desperate to block it from his mind. He would save them, he had too, he could not stop.

He holds their enemy’s gaze, and pulls with all he has.

Suddenly all resistance crumbles, and power floods into him. It overwhelms him and pulls him under, the pain of it washes him away and he is lost to darkness.

The last fragment fades out, the pain returning. The onslaught is too much, and he drowns in it for what could be moments or decades, he cannot say.

When awareness, if it can be called that, returns he is still in the dark. The pain is still all encompassing. He is barely able to hold onto a thought for longer than a moment.

Where is he now then?

Is he dead?

Had Solas not taken the mark from him? He could still feel it tearing him apart.

Had their combined power killed him? If so, why had the mark followed him into death?

He could see only darkness. Could only feel the mark. Fen’Harel’s mark. Solas’s mark.

Solas had-

He’d wanted the mark, to destroy the world and remake it. Wherever this was, he did not think Fen’Harel could take it from him here.

He notices another light slowly appear from the darkness, another fragment of his memories. He reaches out, not knowing what else to do.

-

“So that’s it then? This is the end?” He says to the endless dark.

All the fragments had long since been spent, he had walked through memory after memory, until they lost all meaning. Diving in again and again, just to have something to do. Eventually running out of memories to see.

He could not say how long he had been here, in this in-between state, as he’d come to think of it. Sort of dead, but not quite.

A selfish part of him wanted to escape this, to go back to his life. But he knew that if he did, Solas would take the mark from him. Whatever hell he had ended up in, it was a place no other could follow him into.

It didn’t stop him from being lonely.

Lonely.

That’s what Solas had been, once.

He’d never said it, not aloud, but Conkus had known it. It was in part, why he became friends with Pride. He’d met someone else like himself. Someone unalike to all those around him, someone who felt utterly alone even among others.

Loneliness, that’s what drove Solas. That and guilt.

Conkus wondered what Pride would change, given the chance. The elf had said nothing in Redcliffe, though he had the chance to change the past. But that had been different, in a way.

What would Conkus do, if he could go back?

He wasn’t sure why he even asked the question at all, but there was nothing else left to do anymore, except think.

For an eternity he asked himself questions he could not answer. He found himself time and time again asking these same questions. He seemed to go in endless circles. Always arriving back at this point.

Until a stray thought crossed his mind. Like a flicker of light in the void, he held onto it tightly.

The mark.

It could tear down the veil. That is what Pride had wanted it for. Why he was going to take it from them.

And what was time magic, if not a tear in the veil?

He had never studied such advanced magics, but the mark was strong, and knew what he wanted it to do, even before he tried to do it. It had closed rifts before, almost of its own volition.

Before all this, his mark would never have been powerful enough, the weak flickering thing that it was. Able to close a rift, eventually even open one for a short time, but nothing more.

But now.

He has all the power of the orb inside him. He need only unlock it.

So he thought of Pride. Not of Solas, but Pride, the man from a world long lost. A boy. Young. Naïve. Innocent.

The mark is his magic, so take me to him. He thinks.

His body slowly begins to glow a familiar green. It spreads from his hand, up his arm, across his chest, out to his limbs.

The glow begins to grow so bright he cannot look, he closes his eyes. He thinks of Pride.

He feels everything around him shift.

It’s subtle. There’s no great sound. But he senses things he had long forgotten the feeling of. He can feel the ground beneath his feet. He can hear the wind through trees and the distant sound of birdsong.

His eyes are still closed, too scared to hope he is free of the endless, maddening void.

A voice speaks.

“Wow! That was incredible magic, can you show me how to do that?”

He opens his eyes and looks down at the child in front of him. The boy looks young, and his expression is one of wonder.

“I will, on one condition, you answer my question.”

The boy nods solemnly.

“What is your name?”

The boy’s face lights up, excited and relieved at such an easy question.

“Oh! My name is Pride.”

He smiles at the boy, and replies.

“It is lovely to meet you Pride.”

“What's your name?” Pride asks him.

He looks down at the kid, considering his answer. What should he answer?

Conkus was a safe enough option, but it also wasn't remotely elvhen. Josmael was risky. If he didn't manage to prevent his own birth there was risk his name would become… known. As Fen’Harel and the other gods had.

Better not to use either then. How to choose another name? He mentally goes down the list of elvhen names he is familiar with in his mind.

He pauses. Sacrifice. He had sacrificed a lot to get here. It would be fitting.

“My name is Ilen.” He answers, finally.

“But that is a sad name, you don’t look sad.” Pride tells him, frowning.

“It,” He hesitates, “It is not that simple.” He does his best to smile at the kid reassuringly.

Pride makes a face and opens his mouth to argue, before he can he is interrupted.

“Come inside now, Pride. You have lessons to do.” A voice speaks to their left.

He turns and sees an unfamiliar woman. She is quite tall and has long grey hair which contrasts with her skin. She is wearing a floor length deep blue gown. She makes an imposing sight, with such fine and opulent clothing. There is something about her. Who is she?

“Yes Mythal.” Pride says with a petulant tone of voice. Ilen’s blood freezes at the mention of her name.

That tone of voice would be hilarious coming from Solas’s mouth if he wasn’t so focused on exactly who is standing in front of him.

He vaguely notices Pride run off in the direction Mythal came from but doesn’t take his eyes off Mythal.

She stares at him, assessing him.

“Hmm, you are not one of the People. No, only something that looks like one. Whatever you are, I advise you to stay away from him.” A frown forms on his lips, a threat so fast?

“I’m not here to hurt him.” He replies calmly.

She gives him a disbelieving look.

What should he do? He hadn’t planned to give up the game this soon but he can’t change anything if Mythal prevents him from ever speaking to Pride.

“I’m from the future.” He says. She laughs incredulously.

“Time travel? You really expect me to believe that?” She asks.

“Who named him,” He inclines his head towards Solas’s retreating form, “They’re either a seer or very good at guessing, because pride is going to ruin the world.”

“I thought you said you weren’t here to do him harm?” She asks, dangerous.

“I’m not. I couldn’t. I’m here to lead him away from becoming that person, at least enough so none of those things ever happen.” His mouth twists into a frown.

“You have given me no proof yet, why would I believe you?”

He lifts his hand and pushes power into the mark and it starts to glow.

“It started with this.” He begins.

-

In some ways he can’t believe Mythal believed him. He is just glad she did.

“Hahren! Look what I did!” Pride points to the small wall of ice on the ground he had just conjured.

He watches Pride exploring his magical abilities, yeah, he’s very glad she did.

As the months pass he becomes friends with the young elf. Pride almost feels like a younger brother. He never had any siblings, he’s got one now though.

“Careful lethallan, if you break that you know Mythal will not allow you to do magic in the temple for at least a month.” He warns the kid as Pride nearly destroys a valuable statuette.

The mark twinges inside him, he doesn’t outwardly react, he knows he is running on borrowed time, but it’s not enough, he needs longer.

Maybe if he can perform another ridiculous feat of magic it will deplete the mark to give him a little more time.

He hadn’t meant that as a wish, he thinks as he raises his hand to the oncoming wave of water. He pushes all the magic he has as the barrier spreads out, further and further.

The giant barrier holds back the water, he keeps his hand lifted, not sure if the spell will even hold if he moves an inch.

He holds it as long as he can, hoping everyone is out of the city as he feels the last of his magic flow out of him, after a moment the barrier flickers and fails. He doesn’t even have time to worry about drowning before darkness takes him.

-

The first thing he feels is disorientation. As his mind wakes he begins to wonder where he is, he…something happened to him, didn’t it?

It comes back to him suddenly. He saved the city. He created a huge barrier that stopped Elgar’ nan from drowning hundreds. So many people were able to escape the city, because of the precious few minutes he kept the barrier up.

Unfortunately, that had used all of his magical reserves, and beyond that even. Likely, the mark was the only reason he still lives. Ironic.

He can feel the mark inside him, it is dormant, power still recovering from such strenuous and extended use.

He opens his eyes then, looking around the room he is in. It’s a small chamber with mosaic walls and a single ornate door. There are two torches of veilfire burning in pitchers. The blue fire giving just enough light for him to see the room around him.

He looks closely at the mosaic on one wall. It’s of him? He looks at all of them. They all depict him, things he’s done since coming to the past. What is this place?

He gets up from the stone slab he was laying on. He notices that it’s the only thing in the room. There are no furnishings of any kind.

He walks over to the door, intent to leave when he feels magic tingle over him. Was that a ward activating?

He steps back and prepares himself for whatever might step through the door. He has no weapons for a fight, and his magical reserves are not fully recovered, can he even fight?

After almost a minute he relaxes, deciding no one is coming. As he decides to approach the door and leave he hears footfalls outside and tenses.

The door opens and he freezes at the figure that steps through. It has been some years then. He had slept for years. The proof stands right in front of him, in the form of an elf he would know anywhere.

“Pride.” It wasn’t a question, he can’t imagine a time when he wouldn’t know Solas. Though in this case, he had aged since they spoke last. But how much?

“Ilen? I thought someone had broken in,” He relaxes somewhat, “We thought you had entered uthenera, you’ve been asleep for eight years. How could you possibly wake after what you did?” He sounds anguished at the memory. Pride had mourned him, then. Ilen feels guilt twist in his gut at unintentionally causing Pride pain.

“I am sorry Pride, I did not know what else I could do, they were all going to die. I was reasonably sure I would survive,” He knows it isn’t enough but continues, “In fact, it was my only chance at survival.” He quietly admits.

“What are you talking about?” Pride asks him.

He looks at his hand, gently glowing with a green light he had come to hate.

“It started with this. This mark grants me incredible power, which is how I created the barrier, but it’s also killing me. The only way to prolong my life so far has been to sap it of most of it’s power with very powerful and draining spells.”

Pride’s expression is one of horror. To Ilen Pride looks like the Solas he had once known, younger but clearly the same elf. It is...strange. Solas had been so long ago, for him, it felt like a fading dream in the back of his mind. And Pride can’t help but remind him of it.

“We’ll find a way, I won’t let you die.” His voice sounding determined. It warms Ilen to know Pride still cares for him so much.

Ilen sighs. If there is even a way, it is not one Pride will find out there in the world, however hard he looks, it’s one he needs to know the truth to find in himself.

He walks up to the younger elf, now his junior by only a few years and rests a hand on his cheek. How had the Dread Wolf come to be like a younger brother to him? He wonders. Pride simply stares at him, desperation giving way to confusion.

“There’s a way, possibly, but it involves sacrifice.” He says, feeling a pit form in his stomach.

Could he do this to Pride? Could he tell him? He would never been the same, that guilt would follow him forever.

“Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

Pride won’t give up no matter what, defiance radiating off of him in waves. Ilen just looks at him sadly.

“Then I must tell you about the first incredible feat of magic that slowed the mark’s spread. I have to tell you how I came to be here in the first place.”

He sits down and leans back against the tiled wall. He waits for Pride to join him.

“The mark can do impossible things.” He starts.

“I know that, I have seen the things you can do.” Pride replies.

He catches Pride’s eyes.

“Even tear it’s way through time.” He continues.

Solas’s eyes widen in response.

“You travelled through time?” He asks, awe in his voice.

“I came from the future. A hopeless, bleak future.” He chokes back a cry at the memory of his friends, sometimes the memory of that day still burns freshly in his mind, and it’s all he can do not to cry.

Solas is quiet, waiting for him to continue.

“The mark was the magic of another, accidentally transferred to me and five others, he could have taken it back at any time, I think, but he didn’t. I doubt I’ll ever know why now.” He sighed.

“Regardless, I had the mark and it could stop a great evil that was threatening my world. I and the others used it to save the world with great difficulty. But it was not over, even then.” He swallows, mouth suddenly dry.

“The one who the mark belonged to had found us and joined us in our quest to stop the evil threatening the world, feeling guilty for his part in it, and not wanting the world to meet it’s end. We became friends, not that I knew who he truly was at the time, but he gained my trust. And then after the battle was won he disappeared.” He remembers the pain he’d felt for Vara when Solas had disappeared without a trace.

“We searched for him, we had agents everywhere, eyes in every city and yet we could not find him. He was simply gone.” He had known the search was hopeless, but he never told them it was a waste of resources. It was what they needed to do, even if it wouldn’t work.

“But not forever, it seemed. We ran into him a few years later and he finally explained his plan, the plan he’d had from the very beginning.” He remembers his horror at finding out Solas was Fen’ Harel. And how everything suddenly made perfect, terrible sense.

“Because you see, in my world there was a veil between the Fade and the rest of the world. It had been created to lock away the most dangerous elves in the time of elvhenan, but creating it had far reaching consequences.” He glances up from the ground where his eyes had fallen, Solas is watching him, expression unreadable.

“The elves lost their immortality, they aged and died. Spirits pulled from the Fade would now twist into demons, intent to harm and destroy. The Veil that had been created to protect us had destroyed our entire way of life. He felt guilty.”

“He had been the one to do it, in the time of ancient arlathan, he had created the Veil. And awakening from a very long sleep, he found the world a mess. And he blamed himself.”

“But he made a terrible mistake. He believed he needed to tear down the Veil to fix what he had done, but doing so would destroy the world as we knew it. Billions of lives, gone in an instant. I couldn’t let him, none of us could.”

“We had only one weapon left against him, his marks, the power he needed to do this terrible act.”

“The five others I shared the mark with cried out in agony alongside me as the mark ate away at us. I knew he would take our marks and we would die. I couldn’t let him kill them, so I took their marks from them, pulled all of the power inside myself.” He tries not to remember their screams as he did it. Their pained cries still echoing inside his head, and he cannot forget them however hard he tries.

“The power nearly destroyed me, it did send me somewhere outside of time, the fade and the waking world, it sent me to a nowhere place. I cannot say how long I spent there, pain and darkness my only companions. It finally came to me that I might be able to use the mark, as powerful as it now was, to travel in time.”

“It seemed obvious. The only way to sway him from his goal was to find him and teach him his pride would be his downfall.”

He turns to look into the swirling eyes of his friend and says, “I’m sorry Solas.”

He gets no reply, no anger or accusation, for a long time Solas says nothing.

“I was a monster?” He finally asks, voice broken beyond anything Ilen had ever heard before.

“No.” He answers.

Solas looks at him in disbelief and anger, at himself.

“And yes.” He says.

“You felt guilt for the actions you were undertaking, I would even say that you may have wanted to be swayed from your path. Those are not things a monster would feel, not remorse.” He tries to explain to Solas.

“But your actions? Your decisions? Those were more foolish than I could begin to describe. They were monstrous.” He couldn’t make them again that was imperative, but Ilen didn’t want him to self-destruct in the process, either.

Solas stares off into nothing, and Ilen’s heart twists as he watches his friend slowly break apart.

He reaches for the elf, turning Solas towards himself. He catches Solas’s eyes.

“You are not a monster. Whatever he may have done, whatever he may have been, you are not him. He is only the potential for a future that can no longer come to pass. You can be better than him.”

After a pause, “I have to believe you can be better than him,” he says quietly.

Solas is suddenly right in front of him and gripping his shirt.

“I will be. I promise you.”

“Thank you, I don’t have it in me to kill you, I never have, so if you weren’t,” Tears well in his eyes,” I don’t know what I would do.”

Solas continues to repeat his statement over and over into his ear as they hold each other. He cries until the tears won’t come. He’s needed to do that for much longer than he ever realised.

-

He cracks a smile at them.

“Hey guys.”

“Conkus.” He blinks at Deimos’s tone. He’s never heard such stark relief in the man’s voice before.

They all rush towards him and he finds himself enveloped in several pairs of arms. He relaxes into the hug.

“I missed you guys.” He whispers to them all.

After they break apart Olivia asks him a question.

“What happened to you? Where’d you go?”

“I thought,” he makes a face, “I didn’t realise taking all the marks would cause an overload of power like that. It blasted me out of this world and the Fade. I don’t know where I went, somewhere that was neither. I was there for a while before…” He trails off.

“Before what?” Elena prompts.

His eyes flick to her. They deserve the truth, he supposes.

“Before I realised that the only place I could go and keep the mark safely out of Solas’s hands was the past. I opened a rift into the past and went back.”

“How far?” He looks Vara over, she looks well if a bit tired.

“Back to the time of ancient elves. Back to when he was just a kid. I thought I might be able to change him, stop all this from happening.” His chest tightens, it hadn’t mattered in the end.

“Did it work?” Telsi asks.

“I’m here aren’t I?” He gives her a broken smile.

“He changed, but...some things just have to be, I guess.” His chest tightens further, constricting his breathing. He didn’t want to think about this anymore. He didn’t want to remember.

“We’ve been trying to stop him, even without the marks he’s going to go ahead with his plan.” Olivia tells him.

He nods, knowing Solas well enough to know that wouldn’t stop him.

“Of course he is. What’s your plan?” He asks them all.

“We’re going to save him.” Vara says.

He meets her eyes and sees her determination. He swallows. How can he tell her it won’t work? He’s never wanted to kill Solas, he’s done everything he can to avoid it, but he finally understands there is no other option.

“Okay. What happened after I disappeared?” He ignores the issue for now, there will be time for that argument later.

“After you took the marks and disappeared Solas left through the eluvian.” Telsi answers accusingly. He sees the anger and confusion in her.

“Telsi that’s-“ Olivia starts.

“It’s okay.” He interrupts.

“I guess I owe you guys an apology. I was so scared, Solas was going to take the marks and I thought that when he did you’d all die,” He chokes at the thought, still, “I couldn’t let that happen. If he killed me that would be alright, as long as all of you survived.” He doesn’t meet any of their eyes.

He is surprised at the feeling of Telsi’s arms wrapping around his chest. He looks down at her. Tears are streaming down her face. He shifts and hugs her back.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers to her. She shakes her head and says nothing.

He looks at them all. He couldn’t be any more glad to see them all again, but, he frowns, they think Solas can be saved and he doesn’t know how to make them see that he can't be. They haven’t lived what he has. He knows, _knows_ that Solas can’t be saved. Not in the here and now, not ever.

He feels the twinge of the mark, whatever they do, they need to do it soon.

He decides not to mention that the mark is still killing him, they don’t need to hear that yet, not when they’ve only just discovered he’s alive.

He should have known one of them would figure it out.

It’s Deimos, who asks him about it, less than a week later.

“Is it stable,” Deimos meets his eyes across the table, “Is the mark stable?”

They’re standing around the makeshift war table, studying what they know about Solas’s movements.

“No. It’s worse than before.” He answers truthfully.

“You were in the past for years, right? How did you live that long?” A good question to ask, he thinks detachedly.

“I expended tremendous amounts of magical energy to deplete the mark. It worked, I’ve only had to do it a few times so far.” He tries to sound optimistic, despite knowing that he’s only delaying the inevitable.

“You should tell the others.” The corner of his mouth lifts at Deimos’s firm tone. He hasn’t heard him talk like that before, it suits him.

“I know. I will, tonight.” Deimos nods and they lapse into silence.

They’re all gathered around the table now, discussing their next move. After a few minutes there’s a lull in debate as everyone considers the problem at hand.

“There’s something else that needs to be taken into consideration.” He speaks up.

Everyone’s attention turns to him.

“The mark is an incredibly powerful weapon and asset against him,” Vara makes to interject but he gestures at her to let him finish, “But it is still the same double-edged sword that it has always been.” The argument Vara was preparing dies in her mouth, she hasn’t changed her stance about Solas and they’ve argued about it more than once, but that’s not what he’s talking about now.

“What does that mean? Stop being cryptic Conkus.” Telsi says, a mix of exasperated and tired.

“It’s killing you.” Olivia realises.

Everyone turns to stare at her as she says it, before turning back to him for confirmation.

“Yes.” He confirms.

He watches their expressions crumble, frustration at their situation giving way to horror at his impending demise.

“How much longer do you have?” Elena asks him, desperation on the edge of her voice.

“I’ve been delaying it for quite a while, but my method is taking its toll on my body. I can’t keep this up forever, that much I know.” Everyone goes quiet.

He knew telling them would hurt them, which is what he’d wanted to avoid in the first place, but he couldn’t keep this from them.

“Which is why we need to deal with this as fast as possible. The mark’s strength is returning and it will give me the ability to power some very complex and powerful spells, we need to take advantage of that while we can.”

“What if we get rid of it?” He stares at Telsi, surprised at her unwavering tone.

“It’s not just in my arm anymore, it’s woven through every part of me, I think the only one who might have any idea how to remove it at this point is Solas.” Which certainly didn’t help at all, because they were definitely not going to let the mark get that close to Solas under any circumstances.

Telsi doesn’t falter at what he says. Instead a fire starts in her eyes.

“We’ll find a way to save you, whatever it takes.” He looks at her and blinks back something that isn’t tears, it isn’t.

“Yeah, we’re not just going to let you die Conkus.” Olivia agrees.

How stupid of him, he had forgotten that they care about him as much he cares about them. Well. Maybe there is hope for him to survive this, then.

Everyone nods along in agreement with the two statements adding their own support.

He gives them all a watery smile and a shaky thank you. He turns away to blink away the tears as their debate starts anew, now with a small flicker of hope burning way in his chest.

-

He stares at Solas. It’s just them, him on his knees in the dust, and Solas staring down at him. He’s won, Solas has won. And Ilen knows he only has one choice left. He’s so tired, he doesn’t want to keep fighting this man. But he cannot give up. However tired of this loop he may be.

“It will never end.” He says, eyes falling away from Solas’s. He wonders if such words might be true. If he will ever succeed or finally die.

“I wonder how you might come to that conclusion, as I would think it obvious that I have won.” A hundred layers deep Josmael hears the conflict in his voice, it doesn’t make him feel anything. He can no longer care that the man is conflicted. There is no hope for saving Solas left in him.

“I tried to save you, da’len.” He says to the boy in his memories, more than to the monster standing in front of him. An apology, for failing to save him from this fate.

Solas may not remember any of this, but he is just as trapped in this cycle as Conkus is.

“I am much older than you Hallonin.” A threat? Surely Solas must know he won’t rise to a threat against a clan he can hardly even remember. For him it has been years since he last spoke with them, a fading memory of another life he once lived.

“I won’t give up, you know that’s not who I am.” He forgets the god standing over him, forgets the ashes of the world beneath him, he remembers the boy. Innocent, trusting, inquisitive and excited by the world around him. How had that boy become this? Where had he failed Pride, so.

It matters not. He hardens himself, he has made a promise, and he intends to keep it.

“I promised them I would save you, so that is what I will do.” He’s tired of pitying Solas, tired of hoping the man can be saved, but he will keep trying, for them.

If that is what it takes. He will try a hundred times. Until it is him who is tearing the world apart.

“What could you possibly do that would save me now?” Solas asks him incredulously.

Perhaps the ancient elves cannot be saved, but Solas does not have to be the one to bear the guilt for their people’s suffering on his shoulders.

“Nothing.” He drags his eyes from up to meet those of the Dread Wolf.

He tries to see past Fen’Harel, past Pride, and see Solas. Solas as he’d known him all those years ago in the middle of war. His friend, his heart.

“I will just have to save you before you can ever become this.” He has never been more glad that they failed to remove the anchor than in that moment. It’s the only remaining piece on the board.

He twists it just so. The feeling of time warping around him becoming strangely familiar. He’d already done it twice, hadn’t he? What was one more time.

He will not fail, not this time. Even if he has to become the monster. Even then.

He closes his eyes as he’s pulled away from everything towards Solas, always towards Solas.


	2. Hope, Perhaps

He closes his eyes and feels reality twist around him for the hundredth time. The the ground re-solidifies beneath his feet but he doesn’t open his eyes.

For just a moment he pretends that he isn’t doing this, that he isn’t trapped, endlessly trying to save Solas from himself.

Does he even still believe Pride can be saved?

He’s not sure.

He’s lost count of how many times he’s gone back, how many different things he’s tried.

“Who are you?” He let’s himself have just a moment longer before he faces the road in front of him. He thinks he might finally have lost the last of his hope.

As time passes Solas begins to flirt with him, it’s not the first time this has happened. Ilen has come back to when Solas was a young man before and Solas had flirted then. He’d responded in kind, more than once.

The change in their relationship had never swayed Fen’Harel from his course, and he’s tired of the heartbreak, so this time he resists Pride’s advances.

Solas gives chase, because what else is the Dread Wolf to do?

Pride knows Ilen feels something for him, regardless of his resistance of his affections, so the chase goes on, and on.

Eventually Pride grows tired and perhaps even frustrated. Ilen has been here a few years now, and their chase has lasted much of that time.

One day Solas asks him why.

“I have felt what you feel for me and yet you refuse to pursue it, why?” Ilen had not expected him to be so blunt.

The Wolf looks tired of the game, he notes as he meets the questioning eyes of the elf. Ilen turns away from Solas without answering.

Ilen is tired too.

Tired of it all. He doesn’t even have a lie to tell Fen’Harel.

No lie comes to him, for once.

So after a long silence he decides to tell the truth.

“Because you’ve broken my heart a thousand times over and I’m tired Solas. I’m tired of it.” He doesn’t even hope that telling the man the truth will change the future, it’s never worked. But he does it anyway, because there’s nothing else left to do.

“I confess myself confused, I have pursued you tirelessly for years and you have never responded in kind, how can I possibly have hurt you in such a way?” Pride asks him, frustrated and confused.

Still, no lie comes to him.

So the truth then, all of it.

“You haven’t,” He meets Solas’s gaze, “Not in this timeline. Only in a hundred others. So it is not your fault, truly, but it is hard to open my heart when I know what the result will be.”

Pride’s posture shifts as he admits he is not of this time, the elf’s expression becoming one of shock.

“You’ve travelled in time? More than once? Do you realise how dangerous that is? The consequences-“Ilen’s eyes narrow and he interrupts Solas with a hiss of anger.

“Do not lecture me about the risks of time travel, I would not have had to do it if you did not destroy the world in every single timeline I have lived through.” Solas rears back as if he’s been struck, Ilen’s words cutting him deeply.

Solas doesn’t reject the truth, he doesn’t call Ilen a liar, he trusts Ilen and accepts his words as the truth that they are.

Pride looks as if the weight of the world has just settled on his shoulders.

Ilen watches Pride retreat into himself and choke on his guilt as he processes the magnitude of what he has been told. Ilen stands in silence for several long minutes while Solas composes himself.

Finally he speaks, his voice is quiet, as if he fears he what will happen if he speaks any louder, or perhaps, in fear of the answer to his question.

“How many?”

“It doesn’t matter,” He all but snaps in reply,” I’ve lost count anyway.” He adds bitterly.

Solas swallows and Ilen catches his hand shaking by his side. He instantly studies the elf in front of him. Did  Solas’s lip quiver or was that his imagination?

Something twists in his chest, he wants to snuff the feeling out before it can take root, but…

He hasn’t seen Solas this affected by the revelation before, ever.

 _No_ , that hope is stupid, no matter what he says Solas never changes, nothing ever changes.

“Whatever guilt you’re feeling means nothing, it won’t stop you later, _when it matters_.” He sneers.

It’s mean, and Solas looks hurt by his words, but he’s too jaded to truly muster any regret. None of it ever matters, Solas never changes, nothing he ever does fixes anything.

A wave of hopelessness grips him at the thought, it threatens to overwhelm him, he’s struggling not to cry as he chokes on the feeling when Solas speaks.

“I’m sorry.”

The words pull Ilen from his spiral of despair.

“Why?” He asks the wolf.

“I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you. When you said I’ve broken your heart before you didn’t say that I’ve also trapped you in an endless loop of trying and failing to save me.” He hadn’t, but it had been vaguely implied. At least it had been if one knew of his entire life story, so really it hadn’t been for anyone but him.

“You should just kill me,” Solas sighs “It’s what I deserve.”

Ilen laughs bitterly.

“You’ve said that before, my answer is still the same,” He looks at Solas desperately, ”I _can’t_.”

“Then I will have to do it myself.” Somehow, he thinks Solas means it. He’s always challenged the elf’s words, telling him he can be saved. But if he doesn’t even believe that anymore then what can he say?

But that’s what all of this has been for, he won’t give up, he can’t, not after everything he’s sacrificed.

“I haven’t suffered through all of this trying to save you only for you to kill yourself.” He tells Solas, angrily.

“Why? You don’t even believe I can be saved! Why stop me?” Solas asks him, almost mocking, in his own anger.

Tears finally find their way into Ilen’s eyes and he can’t blink them back fast enough to stop them from falling.

“Convince me, please, I have loved you for so long and tried so many times to save you, convince me to believe this one last time. Convince me you won’t break my heart again.” He’s begging at this point, and he’s crying.

Ilen feels drained, he’s tired and angry and hurt, and he just wants it all to be over.

But he waits, he waits to see if Pride will say something new, words he hasn’t heard before.

He hopes, for the first time in a long time, he _hopes_.

Solas stares at him and his expression slowly morphs from anger into something contemplative.

He steps towards Ilen, something in his expression mirrors the way he looked when this conversation first started, that glint of affection, of love.

But he also looks desperate and unsure. As he steps into Ilen’s space and touches his cheek determination crosses his face.

“You have loved me for so long and have spent too many lifetimes trying to save me, it’s my turn to save you. Trust me this one last time Ilen, let me into your heart. You have been carrying mine for so long. That is a weight only I should be carrying, so _let_ me. Whatever the future holds, whatever I am fated or not fated to do, trust me not to hurt you, this one time, _trust me_.”

Ilen reaches for Solas, eyes on the other elf, Solas looks utterly sincere.

He almost believes this is the Pride of his first timeline, that he remembers more than just the here and now, with the look of sincerity and gravity in the his gaze.

A part of him holds tight, refusing the tempting words, but Ilen is tired of being tired. He wants to believe again, his heart has survived a hundred breaks, he has given it a hundred times, he can give it to Solas one more time.

He says it in a whisper, an admission and a question, asking Solas to promise him.

“I love you, vhenan.” He says.

“ _I will protect it this time, I promise Ilen_.” Solas says. Ilen lets the elvhen words wash over him, and he lets himself believe them.

Ilen slowly tilts his head down and kisses Pride. He pulls away after the gentlest brush of lips.

“Call me Josmael, my name is Josmael.” He tells Solas.


End file.
